


Royal Bloodshed (working title)

by catratbatsnake



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Macbeth - Shakespeare
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 13:12:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8373511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catratbatsnake/pseuds/catratbatsnake
Summary: A Harry Potter/MacBeth remix. More plot from MacBeth, more characters from HP. Hopefully you won't need to heave read both of them for this to make sense.All of this is owned by JKR and Shakespeare/Creative Commons; I'm just having fun letting my favourite characters explore  a new universe. Well, they might not have fun. Sorry about that. Chapters wise, I'm following the layout of the play, so there will some variation in length etc. (Mostly) Non-magical, fifteenth-century Scottish nobility AU.This is gonna get nasty in later chapters; I will update ratings/warnings/tags/characters as we go along.





	1. Act I, Scene I

_The sky is dark, great clouds rumbling across it. Rain lashes at the ground. By morning, all of the rivers will be swollen, ready to wreak havoc in the lives of those who inhabit their valleys. The world is silent but for the roar of the wind and the pervasive smash of water._

_To the west, lightning strikes with a sound that rattles every doorframe in Scotland._  
**“When shall we three meet again, as Thunder, Lightning, or as Rain?”**

_The wind lets out the howl of a wolf in pain._

_A second shard of light hits home in the east. The very air quakes and shudders._  
**“When the hurly-burly’s done, when the battle’s lost and won.”**

_The sound of rainfall increases so that it is no longer discernible from the rush of the rivers it fills. Somewhere, a mouse tries to squeak in terror, but no sound comes._

_Yet another CRACK! carves the sky in two._  
**“That will be ere the setting of the sun.”**

_Wind and rain seem to rise sharply in tempo, building up to a terrifying crescendo. The ground shivers, heathland and mountain united in their plight at this moment._

_And then the earth is silent. The clouds do not lash out with tomorrow’s floods. Treetops do not bow to the storm. Still its inhabitants remain speechless._  
**“Fair is Foul, and Foul is Fair! -**  
**Hover through the fog and filthy air.”**


	2. Act I, Scene II

James Potter had not slept well. A terrible storm had lashed at the walls of the wooden building in which he was based, and he’d tossed and turned the night away anxiously. Would the roof give out? Were Lily and Harry safe? Would the wind tear apart Hogwarts’ stone walls, leaving them prey to the elements? Would the rivers go into spate? Would the population blame him for the damage to their crops and homes and decide to reinstate the rebellion he’d managed mostly to subdue? If the crops were ruined, would there be a famine? Was this storm to be the end of his family and his kingdom?

“Morning, Prongsie!” A tall, well-cut man bounced into James’ bedchamber, bearing a tray that smelled suspiciously like roasted wild boar. Sirius Black was James Potter’s bodyguard, military advisor, and lifelong best friend. They’d grown up practically as brothers, right down to the unruly black hair, although James cropped his short so that it didn't get tangled up when he had to wear a crown for daft Kingly reasons.

“The Grindelwald rebels surrendered!” Sirius crowed, setting the breakfast tray down so that he could dance around the room. A cloud of dust rose around his feet.

That woke James up. “What?” he snapped upright in bed, reaching out to steady the tray as his best friend made the floor shake.

A head of brown hair streaked with grey appeared around the door. “What he means is, the Grindelwald townsfolk presented Riddle and Malfoy with a contract stating that they’ll obey the throne if Riddle stops chopping them up”.

“And Riddle agreed to that?” James couldn't help but be suspicious; the Thane of Glamis - the area of Scotland where the uprisings had been worst, and where the village of Grindelwald lay - never passed up on an opportunity to assert his dominance. Especially not where violence was an option.

“It would appear so.” Lupin slipped into the room, ducking around the still-dancing bodyguard to snaffle a wild boar sandwich off the breakfast tray. “It’s probably advisable for you to thank him sharpish, though, in case he decides to mutilate the entire village during a temper tantrum, or something.”

“Damn.” James took a bite of sandwich. “Has anyone copped it recently? Old git would probably think I was mocking his wealth or something if I sent him gold”.

Sirius began to twirl enthusiastically, fingertips brushing against the splintery walls. “Mulciber got chopped up by his rebels! Served him right, too, he was starving them!”

Remus shook his head fondly. “Do sit down, Padfoot, before you break something important. Besides, villagers shouldn’t be praised for chopping up their nobles, it’ll give them bad ideas.”

“He has a point, though,” James grinned, “wasn’t old Mulchy Thane of Cawdor? I could reward Riddle by making him go and rule somewhere he’ll have a proper reason to be blue in the face.”.

Sirius paused his spinning to snigger, staggering as the dizziness hit him. Remus pulled him down onto the bed so that the pair of them sat on their King. “It’s bloody freezing, and more barren than his bitch of a wife up there” he agreed, once he’d caught his breath.

“And old Rids only has one title, which he inherited donkey’s years ago, so he can’t complain that you’re not giving him an improvement.”

Scotland’s youngest king in a hundred years grinned around his sandwich. “Bloody brilliant! And with any luck, the bastard’ll catch pneumonia from all the rain there, and then I won’t have to sit through his droning on at Council, or his fan club’s incessant nodding at every word he says.”

Sirius’ face lit up. “With any luck, they’ll all follow him there! Serves Malfoy and Snivellus right for being such pathetic lost hound-pups!” Remus elbowed him in admonishment, but the gesture held no malice. “Oooh!” the bodyguard continued, gulping down another huge bite, “Regulus might go too! More fool him for being such a pretentious mama’s boy.” 

James and Remus shared an eyeroll. If Sirius had one flaw, it was that he still held a grudge against his younger brother for abandoning the Royal household to take up a junior nobility position, at the bequest of his parents.

The three men responsible for the running of an entire nation - guard, advisor, and king - sat in bed and chattered a while longer, spraying crumbs and shreds of meat everywhere. Surrounded by their best friends in the entire world, not one of them could bring themselves to worry about the state of the rickety building in which they sat, or the state of the world for which they were responsible.

Remus stretched. The sandwiches were long gone. “I suppose we ought to get moving, lads. Celebrations to organise and all that.”

“Yeah, the sooner we have this bloody victory feast thing, the sooner I can get back to Hogwarts and see Lily and Harry” James agreed.

“Is widdle kingypops pining for his pwetty queen?” Sirius’ laugher was halted abruptly as a sock was stuffed into his mouth. James pounced, tickling viciously.


	3. Act I, Scene III

“I thank thee once again for the assistance, and the hospitality, and I do bid thee goodnight, Malfoy.” Tom Riddle rose from his chair and nodded crisply to the blond-haired man opposite him.

“As I have said a dozen times, dear Riddle, it is an honour.” Lucius’ tone was reverent, even as he suppressed the thought that Riddle was one strange hippogriff. Every part of that man, from his styled black hair and emotionless eyes, to the way he handled a sword, screamed _POWER_. Actually, Riddle didn’t need to scream it. His very existence exuded it in a quiet yet presumptuous way that one dared not defy.

*

His feet carried him along a mountain path, close to the edge of a pine forest. _Birnam Wood_ , his mind supplied. Tom Riddle had never before heard of such a place, but he knew that to be the case.

The wind began to pick up as he neared the top of the mountain, rushing past him, faster and faster. When he reached the summit, he found it to be the tip of a cliff over a bottomless ravine, filled with a fog stretching to the horizon in every direction. Tom’s mind was perfectly calm as he spread his arms and dived head first across the gap.

Riding on the breeze was just as he knew it would be: he felt buoyant, kept from plummeting downward by his own power and privilege. Never before had Tom Marvolo Riddle felt so powerful.

He was swept along by air currents. For once, Tom trusted another: they seemed to be increasing his power. Dark shapes began to form in the fog, increasing in size and complexity as he approached. One in particular sparked his recognition, however the force carrying him seemed to want to sweep on by the imposing turrets of the Riddle Fortress. Glancing down on it from the air, he realised that the line of yew trees to the south of his estate was gone.

He wasn't given time to panic - not that Tom Riddle ever panicked, it was others who did that upon detecting his anger - as the wind swept him on, dipping down as a hill rose out of the fog. The feeling of firm ground beneath his feet felt firm yet natural as he found himself facing a pair of intimidating iron gates, forged from a plethora of swords, a sceptre in his hand. _Castel Cawdor_ , his mind informed him, _Mine_.

He stared up at the bleak stone walls for what might have been a millisecond or an eternity. Upon turning to survey the landscape, he was unsurprised to find the Castel was at the top of a steep slope. Pale hands carved out his passage through the fog once more.

This time, Tom touched down in what he knew was the central courtyard of Hogwarts Castle. He found himself sitting down, a slight weight pressing against his forehead. A glance upward showed the shape of a skull spitting a snake in the fog above him. He felt a feeling of great calm, great power. Casting his eyes around, Tom confirmed his own suspicions: he was indeed seated on the Throne of Scotland. Had he been a lesser mortal, he would have felt lightheaded.

He rose gracefully from the throne, a feeling of great satisfaction throughout his very being, akin to the sensation of recovering from a most momentous orgasm. The air seemed to thicken and dirty around him, spiralling into great skeletal, serpent-spewing shapes. But in that moment, nothing could touch the mighty Tom Riddle as he rode the wind toward the rising sun.

*

Powerful calm followed Tom into the next morning. He awoke extremely satisfied, with an unusually clear recollection of his dream. Oh, that it should come true, he thought to himself as Pettigrew prattled something about a victory feast from that dim-witted piece of couchgrass they all had to call king these days as he brought the day’s robes. Honestly, feasts, victory, rebels, blah blah blah. He’d been Thane of Glamis longer than that little demigod had been alive.

“I trust your rest was satisfactory?” Malfoy’s reverent tone never failed to brighten Tom’s mood.

He inclined his head. “I must thank thee once again for thine hospitality.”.

“Would a similar invitation be of interest to you so that your journey home after the King’s Feast might occur in daylight tomorrow?” The sleek, fairheaded man would surely be mortified if he could see the raw hope in his grey eyes in that moment.

Tom raised one eyebrow, pretending to consider the offer he had known all along would be extended. “If that is not an imposition, of course.”

“Certainly not.” Malfoy’s ability to keep his tone neutral would have been impressive, if not for the fact that Tom could do better. “I shall see to it that everything is as you expect.”.

“Very well.”.

“Ah, Draco. Good morning.” Lucius intoned as the door to the dining-room creaked open. Tom raised an eyebrow.

“Father.” A slender young man of around seventeen slipped into the room. Trademark Malfoy yellow-gold topped his head, but it was cropped shorter than his father’s, accentuating well-defined features that must have come from his mother. He almost didn’t flinch as his eyes caught on Tom, before stepping across the room to face him as he awaited his father’s introductions.

“This is my son and heir, Master Draco Malfoy.” Steel-grey eyes, so unlike the watery ones his father possessed, met Tom’s. “Draco, this is Lord Riddle, Thane of Glamis. He leads a fine army.”.

Tom _almost_ made a snide comment about how he was Thane of Cawdor, too.

“Do yous find yourselves well-rested, Lord Riddle, Father?” the Malfoy heir enquired, in the politely neutral tones of well-raised nobility.

“I am indeed, I found myself dreaming of a birdlike flight.” He caught himself before he could continue. Tom found he was rather enamoured with the boy; he seemed to be of far more use than his father.

“’Tis peculiar, then, that I too dreamed of flight - and of you being King of Scotland, Draco. Great things indeed!” Malfoy prattled on, but Tom tuned him out. He scoffed internally. Draco Malfoy, King of Scotland. Really, Lucius was but a bumbling fool with a taste for those with power.

**Author's Note:**

> Character parallels, by order of appearance:
> 
> James Potter ~ Duncan, King of Scotland  
> Sirius Black/Remus Lupin ~ Duncan's court (advisors/bodyguard)  
> Tom Riddle ~ MacBeth  
> Lucius Malfoy ~ Banquo  
> Draco Malfoy ~ Fleance


End file.
